Storytime with Ron
by iNiGmA
Summary: Ron and Hermione didn't expect everything to go wrong when they planned a summer cruise with the kids. They certainly didn't expect to get stranded out at sea with no food, entertainment, or foreseeable rescue. There's a way to pass the time, however. A story. THE story. Ron wants to tell it—but do the kids want to hear how he met their mother? Does Ron care? No. No, he does not.


_**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter, not mine._

_**A/N:** Hey guys, another delightful entry for__ HP Battleships, prompt #44: _How I Met Your Mother - Character A sits down and tells their kids either A) the story of the first time they met Character B—OR (and)—B) The first disastrous date with character B. _This story also utilizes items #61 (_The entire story takes place ON A SHIP_) and #82 (Charlie and his bloody dragons, and ethical dragonhide) from The List. _

_Huge thanks to Animalium for betaing once again!_

_Also, this is a stand-alone story, not a sequel to **Storytime with Harry**, which is about as amusing as I hope this one is! :)_

* * *

**Storytime with Ron**

.

It was dark, and it was stormy, and Ron wanted to set it all on fire. Honestly. Family holiday? What a bloody joke.

Lighting flashed outside the large window that made up most of the wall of their "sitting room," throwing the turbulent waves of the Celtic Sea into sharp relief. Not even a moment later, thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the floor, and the walls...and the ceiling, and, really, everything. Rose let out a gasp and jerked involuntarily in her seat by the fireplace — where she had been curled up with the book she was pretending to read — and then pretended she hadn't. His eyes flashed to Hugo, who was standing by the window with his nose pressed up against the glass, looking entirely too pleased with the situation.

After all, nothing could possibly be more exciting than being trapped out at sea in the middle of a storm so powerful it made the day look like night, on a broken cruise ship, where everything, and he did mean _everything_, had gone horribly wrong. Not when you were eleven.

Really, Ron shouldn't have expected anything less.

In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Hugo had somehow been responsible for jamming all the engines, breaking the connections in _all_ the Floos, and calling down this mad storm upon them, just so he could stand back and revel in the insanity. The only disaster Ron could not readily attribute to his son was the spoilage of the entire food supply until there was nothing left to eat but stale water biscuits and three-quarters of the ship's population were confined to their rooms on account of they couldn't stop retching — Hugo _did_ enjoy a good meal.

Hugo was definitely Ron's son.

Minerva was going to send him so many Howlers if they ever got off this ship and Hugo managed to make it to Hogwarts. They would not be addressed to Hermione. Oh no. Hugo would appear, set Hogwarts into a frenzy, and good old Minerva would know exactly who was at fault.

Ah well, at least he had Rose.

Ron's eyes slid back to his daughter, who was decidedly pretending to read _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_, despite the fact that her eyes had not moved once for the past thirty minutes. Now, did that make her more like him, or like her mother?

But he was getting entirely off-topic. Rose was top of her class, and a bloody awesome Chaser on the Gryffindor team, and no matter how many Howlers Minerva would send in the coming year about how Hugo had blown up a toilet (as requested by his Uncle George) or turned all the staircases into slides, or..._or Merlin, what if he freed all the House Elves?_ At least Hermione would probably get _that_ Howler. But no matter what Hugo did, at least Ron could say, "But, Professor! Rose!" and she would have to admit that he and Hermione were excellent parents who produced excellent, well-adjusted children...and really, who needed toilets anyway? They had bloody magic! Besides, Hugo was endearing. And Ron really had no proof Hugo had done anything to the ship. No proof at all.

Certainly, magical cruises broke down all the time for no reason. And Certainly, Hugo couldn't call up a storm. For Merlin's sake, he was only eleven. Ron had no bloody clue how to call up a storm, and he was a fully qualified Wizard. A qualified Auror, even! Two years counted for something.

He briefly wondered if Harry knew how to call up a storm.

There was no way in bloody hell that Harry knew how to call up a storm. No bloody way.

Lightning flashed again, and the ship rocked violently in the ensuing roar. Rose dropped her book, let out an eloquent string of curses that would displease Hermione but made Ron proud, and reached out to grab it. Hugo giggled, spreading his arms wide as if he could feel the wind through the glass.

Perhaps he hadn't done anything to the ship after all...

"That's it!" Ron said, and both kids turned to look at him. "Children of mine, we're going to do something together."

"Something like what?" Rose said, her tone suggesting that she was simply responding to be polite, and was already working through which excuse would be ideal to get out of doing whatever it was he had planned.

"Daaad," Hugo whined. "I'm busy."

"With what?" Ron said incredulously.

"Riding the storm!" Hugo informed him.

"And I'm studying," Rose said, picking her book back up and hiding her nose behind it once more. "There's nothing else to do on this Merlin-forsaken ship."

Ron sighed. Was he _ever_ this insufferable?

"That's why we're going to have family bonding time instead," Ron said brightly.

"Family time?" Rose said, lowering her book once more. Ron noted that she was still on the same page. "_What_ family time? What are we going to do? All the pools are empty. All the food is ruined. And we can't leave our rooms! And Mum's ill because she just _had_ to insist she could fix the Refrigeration Charm."

"Well," Ron allowed. "If there's one thing your Mum's not best at, it's anything food related."

Hugo giggled. "Like when she tried to make a cake for Rose's birthday?"

"Exactly," Ron said, grinning. "Like that time."

"D'you reckon we could break the window, Dad?" Hugo asked, switching topics like Rose switched shoes. "So we can play in the rain? It'd be so awesome!"

"No," Ron said. "Definitely not."

Rose rolled her eyes, lifting the book back to her face. "I haven't time for all your theatrics. I'm busy learning all the basic spells for third year. Hugo, maybe you should have a go at your own copy."

Hugo looked shocked. "Study before I even _start_ school?! Never, Rosie!"

"You're so juvenile," Rose huffed.

"Duh! I'm _eleven_!"

"Kids!" Ron said. "C'mon. I know we're trapped at sea with no food, overflowing toilets, and horribly poor prospects, but there's no reason we can't still have a good time."

Rose rolled her eyes again and snapped her book shut. "_What_ is your brilliant idea, Dad? Set the ship on fire? Send up a beacon signal and let the flames keep us warm while we drown?"

"I may've briefly entertained this idea," Ron admitted.

"Take it up with the Hugo department," Rose said.

"Sounds _brilliant_, Dad!" Hugo offered.

"For about ten beautiful seconds," Ron said. "But then we'd probably drown, so your mum wouldn't approve. No, in fact, I have another brilliant idea, which is even better. So c'mon,"— he waved his arms at the couch Rose was sitting on as he settled into the armchair opposite —"have a seat. Put your book away, Rosie."

Rose sighed, reached for her shiny red dragonhide bag and slipped her book carefully inside while Hugo pranced over to the couch and plopped down beside her. They both stared at him expectantly.

"Kids," Ron said, savoring the attention. "I'm going to tell you a story."

"Oh no," Rose said.

"An incredible story!" Ron said. "A bloody epic tale, really."

"Did you slay a dragon?" Hugo asked, practically bouncing up and down. "Did you Transfigure all the Hogwarts food to make everyone fart endlessly the second they ate it?"

Rose whipped her head around to glare at her brother so quickly, Ron thought she probably cricked her neck.

"Do not," she hissed, "_dare_ do that. D'you hear me? I will end you."

"I don't know how to do these things," Hugo said innocently. "I'm only eleven."

"Kids!" Ron said. "Calm down. No one's Transfiguring anything. Yet. No, this is the story of how I met your mum!"

Rose frowned. "We already know this story, Dad."

"_Do_ you?" Ron asked brightly.

"Is this punishment?" Hugo asked. "I didn't mean it, about the farting."

"No," Ron said.

"But, Dad, is this going to take a long time?" Rose said. "I have spells to study!"

"Yes." Ron smiled. "Hours, I expect."

Rose groaned.

"So," Ron began, "Twenty-eight years ago—"

"Dad, we knoooow," Rose said. "We know about the train!"

"Twenty-eight years ago," Ron persisted.

"Daaaad!"

"Shhh! So, twenty-eight bloody years ago — _let me talk, damn it!_ I'm your elder! — I was a young boy of eleven, like sweet Hugo here, about to step into the biggest adventure of my life. And that adventure was—"

"Meeting mum," Rose supplied.

"Meeting Uncle Harry!" Hugo cried.

"That's right!" Ron said, grinning. "Meeting Harry."

"I thought this was the story of how you met Mum."

"I was eleven, Rose, I didn't know what love was!"

Rose rolled her eyes again. Ron wondered what life was like when your daughter took you seriously. Probably very, very boring.

"So," he continued, "I was eleven, about to step on the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Now, mind you, I've had a pretty exciting life up until that moment — I grew up with all your uncles, after all — but this was the most exciting. I couldn't bloody _wait_ to get on that train! Your grandma was trying to rub some dirt off my face — in a loving way, of course — and it was driving me mad. When I finally got on the train, all the compartments were full. Except, the one with your Uncle Harry."

Ron grinned. "Best day of my life, kids."

"I thought the best day of your life was when you met Mum," Rose said.

"Well, Rosie, it was the same day."

Rose literally groaned and hid her face in her hands. He had made her groan! Ron grinned. This was why they gave you children. For moments like these.

"That's right," Ron said brightly. "Two for one. Excellent day. Mind you, we couldn't stand each other at the time. She told me my face was a mess and scoffed at my poor attempts at magic. I, on the other hand, thought she was a show-off, know it all, and just a nightmare, honestly. But ah, kids, it was a beautiful beginning."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "You were mean to her for two whole months!"

"And I was a stupid git, and mean to her for two whole months," Ron concluded. "And that could well have been the end of it...but, luckily, we got attacked by a troll!"

"Wicked!" Hugo said, as if he hadn't heard this troll story a million times.

"Well," Ron said, "I reckon the troll didn't think so, after Harry stabbed him in the nose. You should've seen the state of his wand."

Rose wrinkled her nose. "I'm quite happy without the visual."

"Right," Ron said, "but, Rosie, it was bloody brilliant, really. I mean, Harry was on its back, and I was levitating its club, and your mum was — well this was before she was excellent in action scenes, so to speak, so she was just all right, but Harry and I, we rocked it, and then your mum became friends with us, and—"

"We knoooow," Rose said, rolling her eyes _again_. "Oh Merlin, Dad, please, stop! Do you know how many times you've told us this story? Well?"

"Er—" Ron began.

"Sooo many times," Rose continued, ignoring him. "So. Many. Times, Dad." Hugo nodded happily at her side. "In fact, you've told us _all_ the stories, Dad. We _know_, all right? At this point, it's like some book we read, like thirty times, that I've _memorized_! And now you're just rehashing canon. _Stop rehashing canon, Dad!_"

"Well—" Ron began.

"Merlin!" Rose cried. "You and Mum, are my OTP, all right? I get it. Hugo gets it. _We all get it!_ But it's old news, Dad! You've been telling the same stories for the last thirteen years, and probably before then. Get some new material."

"Er—" Ron said again, entirely lost for words.

"Oh, Dad," Rose added with sympathy, "don't worry. We still love you."

Hugo nodded in confirmation, his deceitfully-innocent face lighting up in a huge smile. Whatever that meant.

"Fine!" Ron said, pulling himself together. "Fine. Well, have I told you about our first date?"

"You mean when you kissed in front of the Room of Requirement?" Rose said flatly.

"No, our first _date_, Rosie."

"Oh, so you mean when you took Mum out on a broomstick ride and thought she liked it, but she was actually just tolerating it and hoping you'd ask her out, but then she had to do it herself anyway?"

"No," Ron said, sighing, "I mean our first official date!"

"Ah, you must mean the time you nearly set the library on fire then," Rose said, leaning back against the couch and folding her arms across her chest. "I've heard this too. From Aunt Ginny, in fact."

"There was no nearly about it," Ron said, grinning. "But no, that was quite a bit later. In fact, Rosie, that might have been the time you were—"

"Nooooo!" Rose howled, hiding her face. "Ew, _no_! Don't say it."

Ron grinned. Hugo looked blankly between them, and Ron savored his sweet innocence, at least on this particular topic.

"What I'm referring to," Ron said at last, when Rose had finished shrieking and the only sound that remained was the endless, though slightly softer, roar of thunder and the roiling sea, "is the time I took your mum to the beach. For our first date."

Rose and Hugo looked at him blankly. Ron grinned.

"Right, well, I'm sure you two are aware of Mum's feelings on social justice?"

"Certainly," Rose said, at the same time as Hugo said, "Social what's it?"

"Ah, Hugo," Ron said, eyeing his son in contemplation as he prepared to impart him with a valuable lesson on humanity and responsibility, and doing the right thing, and all that crap Hermione loved. Take _that_, Minerva. "Social justice. It's all about equality and privileges and giving back. The very foundation of your mum's tenure as Minister. I always loved that about her — how much she cared.

"So it was the summer before she went back to Hogwarts to finish her final year, and she was terribly upset about it all — how the Muggleborns had been treated and how long it was taking to reinstate their positions, how the House Elves were being treated, the goblins, all of them. She was so stressed out — you know how she gets. She wanted to fix the entire hierarchy of wizarding society in an instant, but she was only seventeen and not done with school. I reckon it was hard on her, how long change can take. And she just needed to do something, get her hands dirty so she could see she was making a difference. That was really important to her. So for our first date, I took her to the beach."

"To the..._beach_?" Rose said dryly. "That was a solid plan, Dad. That ought to fix everything."

"To _clean up_ the beach, Rosie!" Ron said, exasperated. "I thought your mum would appreciate giving back to the environment."

"I'm only eleven," Hugo said in contemplation, "and I don't know much about dating or _love_"— he made a face —"but this sounds like a boring date."

Ron grinned. "I daresay, son, you have quite a bit to learn. And this date was anything but boring."

"Oh?" Rose said. Her tone was flat, but Ron gathered that she was actually interested and doing her best to mask it.

"So I Apparated us to this beach — it was some nameless little stretch of sand in County Cork, and entirely coated in plastic. I mean it was horrible, honestly. Your poor mum nearly burst into tears at the sight. For a moment there, I questioned all my choices.

"But then I turned to her and gripped her shoulders and I told her, 'Hermione, you've been trying to make a difference for months in the Ministry, and it's going to take years, but right now, today, you can make a difference here.'

"And she looked around and seemed to steel herself at the sight, and then she nodded and admitted I was right, and that 'this was a brilliant idea.' And, kids, before I could so much as pat myself on the back, she had her wand out and had started Vanishing the plastic left and right. I barely had to help, she had half the beach cleared in half an hour.

"And I was watching her, with her hair flying madly around her face. She was so determined...ah, it made her even more beautiful. How much she cared, and how much she did. How amazing she was, even at seventeen, before she changed the framework of our entire society. I was completely in love with her, really."

"Eww!" Hugo said.

"One day, son," Ron said, smiling. "One day, you'll understand.

"So, I was just thinking that this beach would be clear in well under an hour, and we could, after having finished this important and meaningful part of our date, move on to a romantic dinner, but your mum was too excited with the prospect of helping, you see. She wanted to do more. She had spotted a patch of plastic floating in the water, and she was determined to remove that, too."

Rose cringed. "This doesn't sound like it will end well."

"Of course it ends well, Rose," Ron said with a grin. "We're all sitting here, aren't we?"

"If you call this _well_…" she said, managing to glance around their confined quarters and roll her eyes simultaneously.

"Well, our life is a never-ending story," Ron said, smiling. "But, it's about the journey, kids, not the destination. You've got to appreciate the journey. I learned this at seventeen."

"I don't reckon you appreciated that journey very much," Rose said.

Ron grinned. "It grows on you.

"So, anyway, your mum had perfected this Walk-on-Water Charm — it created bubbles of air that floated above the water to form a path — and she walked us over to where the patch of floating plastic was, and we started vanishing it, and suddenly, we see something approaching us in the water. We could see it because—"

"Oh no," Rose said mildly.

"—it had a fin, and it was approaching us at speed! So I said, 'Er, Hermione, I think that's a shark…' and she turned to stare, and then I realized my mistake, because your mum, despite everything she's been through, still tends to lose her head in a crisis, so she saw the fin, and she jumped, and, kids, she dropped her bloody wand."

"No!" Rose gasped.

"Yes," Ron said sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid that she did. And, _of course,_ the wand was casting the Walk-on-Water Charm and controlling it, so, next thing you know, all the bubbles are floating into the air and both me and your mum are in the water, surrounded by plastic and—"

"Sharks!" Hugo cried.

"Yes, well, about that," Ron said. "It turned out, as we were trying to get our bearings and your mum was trying to reach her wand, that the shark was, actually, a dolphin."

"That must've been a relief," Rose said.

"Well," Ron said, "it would've been. Except it turned out the dolphin had an immense fascination with little pieces of wood that emit blue sparks and bubbles, so next thing we know, the dolphin's grabbed your mum's wand and swam off.

"So we're trying to swim after this dolphin, through bits of plastic and freezing water, and our robes are weighing us down, and your mum's entirely losing her head, because this is mad! And, suddenly, the dolphin circles back in our direction, and the wand is still in its mouth, still emitting the bloody Walk-on-Water Charm, and next thing we know, we're trapped in a floating bubble. And the dolphin's just swimming on away.

"And we're rising, we're floating above the water, your mum's wand is about to eternally disappear into the Atlantic, where it'll probably do more damage than all the bloody plastic we just cleaned up...when I remember that I _also_ have a wand."

"What did you do, Dad?" Hugo cried.

Ron leaned back with a smile. "Well, Hugo, if you must know, I grabbed my wand, ignored all the very sweet things your mum said, and aimed it into the big blue ocean, and I Accio'd that dolphin right back on over to us."

"Why?" Rose said. "Why didn't you just Accio the wand, Dad?"

"Well, Rose, unfortunately when your wand is attached to a dolphin's mouth, that can be an unintended consequence. Anyway, in the end, Mum recovered her wand, and the dolphin wasn't worse for wear — I reckon it had a blast, really. And it only took us another two hours to remove all the water bubbles and restore all the displaced sea-life back to its proper place.

"I worried your mum might never want to see me again, but for some odd reason, she decided I had 'meant well.' Which, I did. But your mum doesn't always see these things as clearly as I do."

"Well, Dad, she was in love with you," Rose said. "Obviously." She actually looked pleased. Ron had said something that was of interest to his daughter. He was beside himself. She also looked marginally lighter — was it getting lighter in here? And was it _quieter_?

His eyes slid away from his children's captivated faces and landed on the window, behind which it was definitely brightening. The storm clouds were drifting apart. Weak daylight was filtering through. It wasn't even raining anymore. Well bloody excellent.

"Look, kids!" Ron said. "The storm is over. Perhaps now they can sort out how to get us back to shore, and you two might well make it to Hogwats before term starts."

The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a resounding roar outside, much louder than any previous swell of thunder, and the ship suddenly rocked to the side, as if a huge giant had poked it with a finger — like Hugo had enjoyed doing to his toy sailboats in the tub when he was younger.

Ron cursed, Rose screamed, and Hugo yelled out an excited, "Woah!" Things slid off all sorts of shelves as the ship echoed with a backdrop of countless similar screams drifting to them through the paper-thin walls. Ron took a moment to reflect that it turned out the walls weren't strengthened with silencing charms after all. _Oh well._

Just then, the door to the bedroom banged open and Hermione appeared — looking pale and sweaty, but awfully determined, and 110% Minister-and-in-Charge. There was a mad glint in her eyes and she was grasping tightly at her wand.

"Stay with them!" she shot at Ron, nodding at Rose and Hugo, who were staring at her with rather terrified expressions. Before Ron could respond, she darted out the door, her steps fading in the direction of the stairs. Whatever was going on out there, Hermione was about to go all Minister on its arse, and never mind that she'd given herself a glorious case of magical food poisoning and they were well out on international waters.

"It'll be all right," Ron said standing up and motioning to the children. "Rose, grab your wand. Hugo, give me your hand."

His son hurried over, rather meekly inserting his tiny palm into Ron's own. Still a little boy after all. Ron squeezed his hand reassuringly and beckoned to Rose, who had grabbed her wand from her bag and was now clutching both tightly.

The ship was still rocking, but it was quiet now. Silent. He could hear their gasping breaths, the shaky sounds filling the room with tension.

"Let's go," Ron said quietly, leading them out the door and into the corridor. He had no bloody idea what was going on, and knowing was the first step to action — and if it was something horrible and they were all going to die, then knowing was the first step to acceptance...and if this was the last life lesson his children learned, at least he had bloody tried. Otherwise he was as bad as Fudge, hiding away while Voldemort took over...and he'd be damned if this ship sunk while they were hiding below decks.

It seemed the rest of the ship's occupants were content with hiding, however, because they all remained in their rooms, and only a handful peeked out into the corridor as they filed past.

Ron gripped his wand and unflinchingly led his children out onto the deck, and hopefully not to their doom. And then his mouth dropped open.

Because Charlie was on the edge of the deck. On a bloody Hungarian Horntail.

And not only that, but there were two more dragons circling the ship — a Common Welsh Green with some odd patches of bronze, and an Antipodean Opaleye, with eyes that flashed gold more often than anything else.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, while the children gaped openly.

"Ron!" Charlie said brightly, waving at him from atop the Horntail. "Fancy seeing you, mate. I didn't know you lot were on this ship until I saw Hermione here." Charlie waved his hand vaguely at the deck and Ron glanced around, his eyes finally taking in something beside the dragons. Hermione (who gave him a small wave and smiled weakly) was standing beside the captain, while the rest of the crew rushed around the deck, conjuring heavy metallic ropes out of thin air.

"Blimey," Ron said. "What are you doing here, mate? Are you the rescue squad?"

Charlie grinned. "Certainly. We intercepted your S.O.S. right before the storm hit, and we've been trying to get here ever since. It finally cleared up. You lot will be back in Britain in no time. Once we hook up these ropes, we'll get you back to port." His eyes slid across the children, and his face drew into a frown. "Rose. Is that a _dragonhide_ bag?"

"Er—" Rose said, slipping the bag off her shoulder and pressing it against her chest. "Yes, but, er—"

"Rose!" Charlie said, clearly disappointed. "I have to say I'm shocked, and quite disappointed. I would have thought you, of all people—"

"Bloody hell, Charlie," Ron said angrily, laying an arm around Rose's shoulders. "It's ethically sourced, mate! It's from the Chinese Fireball Reservation. Made from discarded scales. Blimey, Rose is a bloody vegan for Merlin's sake."

"Well," Charlie said, "er — that's all right then."

"Of course it's all right!" Ron said angrily.

And then Rose glanced at her father with a mixture of relief and pride, and Ron felt terribly warm inside. He was sure his ears had turned red. He was doing all right at this parenting thing, if his daughter could look at him like that.

And then Hugo cut in and cried, "Are you and the dragons going to save us, Uncle Charlie?" and the ethically-sourced bag was entirely forgotten. Ron glanced at his son to see his eyes positively glowing in excitement and smiled. Perhaps he and Hermione had managed to raise two perfectly well-adjusted children after all. Not that he'd ever had any doubt. Not _really_.

"That's right, Hugo!" Charlie called, smiling again. "This here's my dragon, Dragon. And this one here"— he gestured at the Welsh Green, which had landed on the stern with a nauseating roll of the ship —"is Rufus. And this beautiful cream one is Viktor. Would you like to have a go?"

"BLOODY HECK, YES!" Hugo cried with more excitement than Ron felt his small form should reasonably hold. He darted off toward Charlie before Ron could so much as take a moment to look at Hermione, who, now that he had, looked positively murderous. Daenerys-level murderous, really (from that bloody Muggle show the kids liked and Hermione thought was too violent, though she was doing a delightful job of channeling it now). He gulped.

"_Wait!_" Ron called.

Hugo pretended not to hear him. Charlie pretended not to hear him. Hermione definitely did not hear him.

"I reckon Mum's going to murder you," Rose said, watching Hermione dart toward Hugo, Charlie, and the dragon while waving her wand dangerously. "And then bring you back to life so that she can divorce you for allowing this. And then murder you again. She's going to grab Charlie's dragon, _Dragon_, and make it set you on fire."

"You may be right," Ron said weakly. "But I suppose that'd make for a good story, d'you reckon?"

Rose glanced down at her bag again, and then quietly said, "Perhaps we can tell it to Uncle Harry and everyone together."

Ron grinned and squeezed Rose around the shoulders. She didn't pull away.

"I'd like that," he said.

Perhaps this family holiday had not been a bloody joke after all. Deadly? Yes, probably. But a waste of time? No. Not if he could finally find some common ground with his teenage daughter. Ron smiled again. In this game of raising teenagers, you either won, or you got murdered by your wife.

But...why not both?

* * *

_**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading, guys! Reviews are always appreciated, if you feel inclined! :)_

_And if you enjoyed this and want more, **Storytime with Harry** on my profile has a very similar premise, and might be, actually, funnier. _

_Rina_


End file.
